


The Huntress and the Moon

by MiaCooper



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Fuck Or Die, Magic Made Them Do It, Multiple Narrators, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper
Summary: “I know I’ve always said weird is a part of the job, but…” she flashes me a wry grin, “I never thought I’d end up running around in an alien forest, playing the part of a moon goddess. And this outfit isn’t exactly practical for slaying enemies.”





	1. Legend

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Kit Williams’ artwork, [Hunter’s Moon](http://www.kitwilliams.co.uk/files/2513/6395/7205/Hunters_moon.jpg) (NSFW). I owe a lot of this to Greek mythology (obviously) but it’s by no means supposed to satisfy the purists.
> 
> I’m going with an early Season 3 timeframe here… after _Resolutions_ , but way before _Blood Fever_.
> 
>  **Disclaimer**  
>  Paramount/CBS own the rights to the Voyager universe and its characters, which I am borrowing without permission or intent to profit. Kit Williams owns all rights to his incredible artwork, which inspired this piece of crazy.
> 
> Thanks to Helen8462 for the awesome beta on this, and apologies to Caladenia for the fondue.

_Ayala_

It was no surprise that Lieutenant Tuvok grilled me for close to two hours after the event, even having read my pedantically lengthy report in its entirety. I could tell that old Vulcan was kicking himself for having sent me down to that planet in his place. Not that he’d had much of a choice, since the captain wasn’t having any of his objections over her and Chakotay leaving the ship at the same time.

“I’m perfectly aware of standard away mission protocols, Mr Tuvok,” she’d breezed as Paris started the pre-flight checks. “And it’s not as though we’re unprotected. I have every faith in Mr Ayala’s ability to protect us from the local wildlife.”

“Sensors detected no predatory animals in the vicinity,” Tuvok replied.

“Well, there you are then.” Janeway turned to smirk at him. “Take care of my ship, Lieutenant. We’ll be back in the morning.”

I could sense his displeasure as he backed out of the shuttle – and I’m sure it was the reason for Paris’ particularly showy barrel roll past _Voyager_ ’s bridge before we descended into the atmosphere – but what could he do? She’s the boss, and what she says goes.

Upon our return, after he’d interrogated me thoroughly, Tuvok assigned me to refresher training and implemented what my Security colleagues and I privately referred to as the Janeway Protocol, which stated that whenever the captain was off the ship she was to be accompanied by two security officers at all times, who would personally scout the planet before allowing her on its surface and would check in with the ship every thirty minutes for the duration of the mission.

It’s a prudent measure – as long as the captain doesn’t blithely override it, as she’s prone to do whenever she decides Tuvok needs to loosen up a little. And maybe it would have helped on the planet we’ve come to call Artemisia. At the very least, it might have got us out of trouble a little earlier.

Still, I fail to see how I could have predicted the way things turned out, or changed them even if I’d had an inkling.

* * *

 

_Chakotay_

My first impression, as Ayala cracks open the shuttle hatch, is heat. It’s not the arid heat I grew up with on Dorvan, though; this is like being slapped in the face with a boiling towel. Sweat prickles my neck even before I’ve stepped outside.

I hear Paris groan from the helm. “Sauna, anyone?”

Ayala turns back to grin at him. “You should try growing up in Corrientes. Summers there would knock your socks off.”

“I’m from Irish stock,” Paris complains. “We’re built for cold climates.”

“I don’t see the captain whining,” I point out, “and she’s more Irish than you are.”

I catch the smirk on Kathryn’s face as she secures a phaser at her hip. “Don’t worry, Mr Paris. Scans show there’s a natural spring not too far from here. If you collect enough samples, I’ll give you permission to cool off with a dip.”

“And if you don’t,” I add, “I’ll push you in myself.”

Paris’ good-natured grumbling follows the sound of our laughter as we step onto solid ground.

We’ve landed on a flat stretch of grass bordered on one side by a tor so barren and treacherous a mountain goat would enjoy the challenge of climbing it. Surrounding us to the south and east is a thickly-clustered forest of tall, white-barked trees with broad blue leaves. To the west lies open space, where the flatter ground tapers gradually downward.

“The possible dilithium source is in that direction,” Kathryn points. The sun is dipping low and she shades her eyes with her free hand. “I estimate we have an hour’s worth of light left, gentlemen. Paris, Ayala – find us a suitable site and set up camp while Chakotay and I take a look for those mineral deposits.”

After we’ve checked in with the ship, Paris and Ayala trudge off toward the copse of trees and I follow the captain around a rocky outcropping. She sets a brisk pace despite the thick heat, tricorder held out like a talisman, but as she rounds the stand of boulders I hear her gasp, and she stops so quickly I almost run into her.

Below us is a valley of breathtaking beauty. In the foreground, a field of golden grasses speckled with bright purple flowers waves in the faint hot breeze. There are thickets of trees dotted here and there, and beyond, a slow-moving river sparkles in the sun, its banks lush with brightly-coloured foliage that, on its far side, melts into more of the white-barked forest. I can hear the quiet trickle of water, the hum of insects, the gentle hoot of a native bird.

“Astonishing,” Kathryn whispers.

Her tricorder beeps rudely and she glances at it, then back at me. “It seems our dilithium source is near that river. Shall we, Commander?”

“After you, Captain.”

She picks her way along the steepening slope, eyes fixed on her tricorder; more than once I have to murmur a warning before she loses her footing. The ground begins to even out as the flaxen grasses sprout in thicker clumps, until finally we’re wading through them, hip-high. I brush my fingers through the stalks. They feel fine and soft as silk.

Kathryn rubs one of the tiny purple flowers in her fingers and sniffs them experimentally. “It’s beautiful,” she says, surprised. “I’ve never smelled anything like it.”

She holds her fingers up for me and I catch her hand carefully as the scent of fresh water and sunshine and exotic blooms wafts over me. My breath gusts out against her fingertips and she shivers, pulling her hand away.

“We should keep going,” she says, her voice breathy.

There’s a stand of trees in between us and the river. As we approach the sound of rushing water grows louder, and I squint into the setting sun. “Sounds like there’s a waterfall close by.”

“As is the source of that dilithium,” she comments, indicating her readings.

We push through low-hanging branches, waving away insects as brightly-coloured as jewels, and emerge into a mossy clearing. There’s a cluster of large boulders on the western side. Water rushes brightly over them, cascading into a stream that winds through the centre of the clearing and disappears into the greenery beyond and, I assume, into the river.

“Chakotay,” Kathryn whispers.

I turn to look at her and realise she’s staring at the rock formation. There’s something odd about it. The rocks are too evenly spaced, too uniform. It looks … deliberate.

The miniature waterfall seems to emerge from a crevice set beneath a stone so broad and flat it looks like a table.

“What _is_ that?” Kathryn wonders, stepping closer.

Or an altar.

A movement catches at the corner of my eye, and by reflex I grab Kathryn’s shoulder, yanking her behind me.

“Chakotay, what on earth –”

Her protest tails off abruptly on a sharp intake of breath.

* * *

 

_Janeway_

Something – some _one_ – moves out of the trees to our left and seems to float toward us.

The figure appears almost human; a female, with pale skin, limpid eyes and long silvery hair. She’s wearing a gauzy robe in shades of lilac and blue, and her feet are bare. They leave no imprints on the moss as she drifts in our direction and comes to a stop barely five metres away.

“I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway,” I begin, falling back on protocol.

The figure inclines her head and smiles, but doesn’t speak. I’m about to try again when the pressure of Chakotay’s fingers on my shoulder tightens and I realise more feminine figures are wafting out of the trees. They group together behind the first, and as I glance from one face to the next, I realise they’re identical except for the varied shades of their clothing.

They observe us silently. They appear to be waiting for something, though I have no idea what.

“We apologise for intruding,” Chakotay tries. “Our scans showed this world to be uninhabited. We’re only here to scout for a mineral our ship requires.”

Aside from switching their attention from me to him, the beings don’t respond. Chakotay and I exchange glances.

“They don’t show up on the tricorder,” I murmur. “And I’m not detecting a dampening field of any kind. Do you suppose their physiology naturally scatters sensors?”

Chakotay shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time our technology has failed to detect an alien species. They don’t seem hostile, in any case.”

“They look like fairies,” I can’t help blurting, then blush at Chakotay’s amused sidelong glance. Clearing my throat, I step out from behind him and address the lead creature. “Are you able to communicate verbally?”

Her smile widens and her eyes twinkle. “We are,” she answers in a voice that sounds like silver bells. “Though we are very selective about it, Kathryn.”

The use of my first name stiffens my spine a little. “May I ask whom I’m addressing?”

“My name is Amanisia,” she replies, “and my companions are the Naiades. We protect and nourish this spring in readiness for the night of the hunt.”

“The hunt?”

“Of course,” Amanisia replies. “It’s why you’re here.”

* * *

 

_Paris_

Ayala and I set up the temporary shelter – a couple of poles, a tarpaulin and some sleeping bags – in a matter of minutes, then set off in the same general direction as the command team, hoping to find edible vegetation that won’t taste anything like leola root.

This place is incredible. There’s no wildlife here bigger than a hawk, the insects are harmless to humans and the leaves on those weird white trees are packed with nutrients – although I’m not overly keen on eating leaves. There are sweet-smelling flowers all around and the scenery makes me wish I could paint.

If only it wasn’t so goddamned hot.

“Step it up, Paris,” Ayala calls from a dozen paces ahead. “The faster you move your ass, the sooner we can all take a swim.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, tugging my collar away from my sweaty neck. “You reckon they’ve found the dilithium yet?”

Ayala shrugs and taps his commbadge. “Ayala to Captain Janeway.”

The only answer is a low, static-y buzz.

We exchange perturbed glances and I activate my own badge. “Paris to Chakotay.”

Nothing.

Ayala doesn’t have to tell me to move my ass anymore. We break into a steady trot, Ayala scanning the route ahead. “They’re in there,” he indicates as we approach a thick copse of silvery trees. “Makes sense – I’m getting strong dilithium readings, and it looks like they found that natural spring as well…”

His voice dies away as we push through the trees and into a glade. There’s a picturesque little waterfall set amongst the rocks and an abundance of flowers lining the mossy banks, but the scenery is not what’s caught Ayala’s attention.

The captain stands a few metres in front of us, Chakotay protectively close to her side, although his body language isn’t setting off any alarm bells. What does make my jaw drop is the horde of extraordinarily beautiful women facing them.

The one at the front of the group turns to Ayala and me, smiling. “You’re here,” she says in a voice that sends tingles along my spine.

The captain glances back at us. “Amanisia, these are my officers, Lieutenants Paris and Ayala.”

We step up either side of the command team, both of us taking the at-ease posture.

“Your protectors,” the woman says, head tilted to one side. “The men who guard you, guide you and do your bidding.”

“I suppose you could look at it that way,” Captain Janeway allows.

Amanisia fixes her with piercing silver eyes. “Then the legend will bear out tonight.”

“Legend?” Chakotay asks.

She glides toward us, stopping in front of the captain as her companions drift into a circle around us. Ayala’s hand rests on his phaser.

“The sun has almost set,” Amanisia says, and I realise she’s right – I can’t see beyond the trees anymore and the air around us is dim. “When night falls, the transformation will begin.”

“What transformation?” Janeway demands.

“The fulfilling of your purpose here.” Amanisia raises one hand, resting it lightly against the captain’s face. “Each year on this night, the moon-dweller Celyne leaves her sanctuary to hunt and defeat Tanatos, the Bringer of Decay, and his three acolytes. When this task is complete, Celyne must choose one of her three champions to become her chief protector, companion and helpmate. Their joining will bring about a new cycle and the land will be renewed.”

I watch Janeway and Chakotay exchange one of their loaded looks. “And how, exactly, are we involved in this?”

“You must undertake the ancient hunt,” Amanisia replies. “Your companions – the Guards of Air and Stars and Night – will accompany you. Once you have slain Tanatos, the Guards are yours to take and join with as you will. Choose wisely, Kathryn. Only the other half of your soul will complete the cycle and free you from the legend, and your bonding will be eternal.”

The captain’s eyes are huge. “I don’t understand –”

Her words trail off as Amanisia raises her other hand so that both of them cradle Janeway’s face.

“You will,” she says as the last of the ambient light dies and, one by one, fireflies spark into life in the dark trees all around us.

And then this _feeling_ rushes into me. It’s overwhelming, fiercer than the most potent drug, wilder than the rush I get from an exhilarating test-flight. It’s like sex and drowning and the most perfect moment of clarity, and then it’s fading and I’m – I’m –

I’m somebody else.

* * *

 

_Ayala_

When the rush fades, I’m seeing the world through changed eyes.

The woods around us seem thicker somehow, darker and more menacing, and the only light comes from the tiny, sparkling fireflies that glimmer from the leaves and in the air around us. Reflected light falls on the group of strange women, making them appear even more ethereal, and on the water streaming through the rocks.

A breeze stirs through the trees and across my skin like a caress.

But I shouldn’t be feeling that. My uniform –

I glance down at myself.

My uniform is gone, and in its place I’m wearing what appears to be soft, moulded breeches made of the hide of some animal. My feet and chest are bare, and my phaser and tricorder gone as well. In their place at each hip, I’m carrying a pair of long-bladed knives in leather sheaths.

I turn to the others and realise Chakotay and Paris are dressed in similar fashion, though there’s a sword hilted at Paris’ side, and Chakotay holds a spear. As for the captain – my jaw drops. Her uniform has disappeared as well, replaced by a short, white one-shouldered tunic, belted at the waist. An opalesque stone hangs from a silver chain around her neck. Her hair is loose and slung across her back is a quiverful of arrows tipped with varicoloured feathers.

Before I can make sense of any of this, Amanisia approaches us. “You are Astrus, the Guard of Stars,” she tells me. She turns to Paris. “You are Zefir, Guard of Air, and you” – facing Chakotay – “are Onix, Guard of Night. Your task is to protect Celyne of the Moon from those who would harm her as she seeks to slay Tanatos. Do not fail.”

“Is this some kind of simulation?” the captain demands.

It’s hard not to stare at her. That tunic she’s wearing doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. And I’m pretty sure my imagination shouldn’t be going in its current direction when it comes to my commanding officer. I’m not the only man suffering, either; Paris is shifting his feet and Chakotay looks like he desperately wants to get the hell out of here.

“A simulation?” Amanisia appears thoughtful. “In a way. The legend of the hunt exists outside of your known reality, but what you will experience tonight is real, and your choices matter. If you choose well, you will return to your world when dawn comes. If you do not, or if you fail in your task, the consequences will be lasting. However,” she holds up a hand as the captain moves to protest, “you have another choice. You may refuse this quest, and if you do, this ends now.”

Janeway narrows her eyes. “What are the consequences of refusal?”

Amanisia smiles. “You are wise to ask. If you refuse, the cycle will remain incomplete. Celyne will return to her home among the stars until the next Night of the Hunt. Tanatos and his creatures of decay will overpower this world, and for the next cycle, the sun will not rise, the river will not flow and the flowers will fail to bloom. All you see here will die a slow death, including my Naiades.”

“What about my people?”

“You and your men will be returned to your vessel unharmed. You will not, however, be able to glean from the earth the precious mineral you came here to find.”

“I see.” The captain’s hands move to her hips. “If we agree to undertake this mission, is there any danger to us?”

“There is always danger,” Amanisia replies. “What matters is how you choose to face it.”

Chakotay dips his head. “Captain, if there’s a risk you could be injured or killed…”

“I know, Chakotay.” She frowns. “I don’t like it any more than you do, and I don’t pretend to understand it either. But if refusing this means that this planet somehow dies –” She shakes her head. “I can’t take that risk. Besides,” she sighs, “we desperately need that dilithium.”

She turns to Paris and me.

“I won’t order you to do this, gentlemen.”

Paris shrugs, fixing his gaze on her face. “Sounds just like a night on the holodeck to me, Captain. I’m in.”

“Mr Ayala?”

I nod.

“And you, Commander?”

Chakotay gives her a half-smile. “Far be it from me to defy an ancient legend.”

She blushes at that – something I never thought I’d see – and bites her lip, turning back to Amanisia. “In that case, we accept. What happens now?”

“Now,” says Amanisia, “you hunt.”

In that instant, a full golden moon rises over the treetops, bathing the clearing in amber light. A cloud of fireflies billows toward us and the shrill singing of some alien bird rings in my ears. I find myself gripping the hilt of one of my daggers, my heart pounding in mingled fear and anticipation.

“Go,” she says, and as one, the four of us turn and run into the forest, the mossy ground soft under our silent bare feet.


	2. Quest

_Chakotay_

The oppressive heat abates as we run deeper into the trees, the trickling of water growing fainter. Kathryn is in the lead, weaving through the thickening forest, her stride smooth and tireless. I put on a burst of speed, catching her elbow to slow her to a walk. Paris and Ayala fall in a few steps behind us.

“Any idea where we’re going?” I ask.

She flicks me an unreadable glance. “I thought you were the local expert on legends, Chakotay. Or should I call you Onix?”

For some reason, the name feels right. It fits. “I guess you should – Celyne.”

Kathryn shakes her head a little. “I know I’ve always said weird is a part of the job, but…” she flashes me a wry grin, “I never thought I’d end up running around in an alien forest, playing the part of a moon goddess. And this outfit isn’t exactly practical for slaying enemies.”

I can’t help letting my gaze sweep over her. “It suits you.”

In the faint light I can still see the flush on her cheeks. “Chakotay –”

Before she can finish her admonishment, an unearthly howl splits the quiet air, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

“What the hell?” blurts Paris.

“I hate to state the obvious,” Kathryn murmurs, “but I’d say they’re playing our song. Let’s go, gentlemen, and look sharp.”

I move in ahead of her. “We’re supposed to be guarding you, Captain,” I remind her as she looks at me pointedly.

“Fine. Take the lead.”

The spear balances nicely in my hand as I heft it experimentally. Ayala’s handy with knives, I know from fighting alongside him in another lifetime, but I’m not sure how well Paris can handle a sword. As for Kathryn’s weapon…

“Have you ever used a bow and arrows before?”

She smirks. “You forget my traditionalist background, Chakotay. I was two-time archery champion at my high school. Although I will admit I’m a little out of practice.”

“Well, just try to keep up with us, then,” I tease her, and she snorts, falling in behind me.

Overhead a bird screeches, and a chill settles over me. I wonder if it’s simply the natural cooling of sundown or some kind of sixth sense. As we move off deeper into the forest I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.

A dry twig cracks, and before I can hiss an order to stop him, Ayala melts into the woods towards it. For long moments we hear nothing. And then a shriek splits the hushed air, and a roar, and we’re running after him.

I’m first on the scene, and what I see is beyond belief. Ayala crouches in the centre of a natural clearing, knives drawn. Facing him are two creatures straight out of a nightmare.

One has the head of a vulture, its hands ending in vicious claws and its roughly humanoid body feathered in shades of violet and black. The other has a bear’s head, jaws open and slavering, atop a body covered in a thick pelt of fur. I can’t tell if they’re bipedal by nature or just standing on their hind legs until, as I watch, the vulture shrieks again and drops onto all fours, rushing toward Ayala. It swipes out a claw and he jumps back just in time, turning to drive his knife into the creature’s neck. It squawks and takes off, shaking blood from its feathers, disappearing into the trees.

The bear emits a thundering roar and gallops at Ayala, but before it can reach him I hear a yell from behind me and Paris is bolting into its path, sword swinging wildly above his head. It slices cleanly through the bear’s thick shoulder and the creature stumbles to the forest floor, but before Paris can leap back, one meaty forepaw arcs out and catches him across the chest. Paris’ body jerks and he falls backward, writhing in agony as the bear groans its way into death.

“ _Zefir_!” the captain screams, and falls to her knees beside Paris. Her hands press onto the wound on his chest, blood seeping through her fingers.

He moans, reaching up to cover one of her hands with his as Ayala and I drop down beside them.

“We have to stop the bleeding,” she says, glancing desperately around. “I need – God! Help him!”

But Paris is bleeding out fast, and there’s nothing we use to stem the blood flow. I meet Kathryn’s eyes, hers wide with fear and anguish.

“I have to save him.”

Paris coughs, red droplets appearing on his lips. “Celyne,” he whispers.

A part of my mind notes that they’re calling each other by the names Amanisia gave them, but it seems unimportant, and then, as though conjured up by my thoughts, Amanisia appears, kneeling beside us.

“He is gravely injured,” she says. “But you can save him, Celyne of the Moon.”

“How?” Kathryn pleads.

“Bring him to the Spring of the Naiades. There remains enough life-force to heal your guard, but you must help him.”

“Whatever it takes.”

Kathryn gets to her feet, and at her nod Ayala and I lift Paris onto our shoulders and begin the trek back through the forest.

* * *

 

_Paris_

I’ve never felt pain like this. My body is burning, rivulets of fire wrapping around my chest and squeezing the breath out of me. I’d welcome oblivion, but the jolting rhythm of motion keeps me hanging on to consciousness.

Hands grip my ribs and calves, strong hands, broad shoulders holding me aloft. I feel the faint swish of air as branches pass my prone body. In brief snatches of awareness, I crack open my eyes and see the stars and the pale golden moon.

“In the stream,” I hear someone say, and I’m being lowered, cool water furling around my ankles, knees, hips. It’s shallow and the bottom is soft with sand. Slender arms wrap around my chest from behind, urging me gently to lie back onto a narrow torso. A lock of long chestnut hair slides forward over my shoulder.

“Celyne,” I manage.

“Shh.” Her lips brush my ear as she scoops water from the stream, cups it over my ravaged chest. It’s hard to breathe, but as she trickles water over the deep gashes in my skin, the bands around my ribs loosen a little and the pain abates.

“It’s working,” says the voice I know belongs to my captain, her husky voice lightened with relief.

“Not quickly enough. The blood is still flowing.” The bell-like tones belong to Amanisia; she sounds grave. “You have the power to heal him faster.”

“How?”

“Kiss him.”

The hands brushing my torso stutter and still. “What?”

“You are the huntress, the goddess of the moon and bringer of healing and life. You must do this.” A pause. “If you don’t, he will die.”

I hear a quick intake of breath at my ear, and then slim fingers are turning my jaw and soft lips pressing my own. She kisses me tentatively at first, a bare brush of lips against mine, but I feel strength trickling through my muscles and nerves and I open my mouth under hers, wanting more. Needing more.

Her breath mingles with mine, her tongue sliding along my lower lip. It’s the most sensual kiss I’ve ever experienced and I can’t help groaning and bringing my hand up to cup her face. She shifts closer, her hair falling across my chest. I no longer feel pain or fear or the cool water on my skin. All I feel is desire.

My arms come around her, one hand holding her face and keeping her mouth on mine, the other on the base of her back, pressing her close. Her thighs part over mine. The friction of our sodden clothing ignites sparks of want and she gasps into my mouth and winds her fingers into my hair. My hands are roaming, sliding under damp cloth and onto soft bare skin, my hips pushing into hers, my mouth leaving hers to press kisses to the white column of her neck and –

She pushes me away, scrambling out of the stream and onto the bank, and my eyes flash open, locking onto the confused and horrified face of my captain.

* * *

 

_Janeway_

My chest is heaving, my breath coming in short gusts. What the hell _was_ that?

From the corner of my eye I catch Amanisia’s approach. “The healing is done,” she says softly, crouching beside me. “Are you well?”

I shake my head, tearing my gaze away from the stunned look in Tom Paris’ eyes. I just kissed my helmsman as if I was drowning in him. _Well_ is not the adjective I’d choose.

“Zefir is not to become your companion,” Amanisia says, her voice low. “You must choose again.”

I swallow against the dryness in my throat. “I don’t understand.”

Amanisia just smiles and stands, extending a hand to help me up. “The hunt must continue. Your guards await.”

Squaring my shoulders, I turn to face the two dark-haired men at the edge of the stream. Ayala’s face is impassive, but there’s a knot of tension in Chakotay’s jaw. Paris rises from the water and goes to stand beside them, taking his sword from Ayala. There’s not a mark on him, and it eases my humiliation somewhat. I don’t understand how kissing him healed his wounds, but it’s a small price to pay for saving his life.

I refuse to listen to the small voice inside me that points out that kissing him wasn’t exactly a torment.

“Well, gentlemen,” I sling my quiver over my back and force myself to meet their eyes, “we have a quest to complete, do we not?”

A screech and a howl rise from the woods, and the four of us burst into a run. As before, Chakotay jogs up beside me.

“Kathryn, this is no longer a game. Paris nearly died.”

“But he didn’t.”

He stops, catching my elbow to turn me toward him. “And I don’t pretend to understand how he survived, but I don’t think we should take that chance with anyone else’s life. We need to get back to the ship.”

“No,” I retort, more sharply than I’d intended. “We continue the hunt.”

“At the risk of someone else getting hurt or killed?” Chakotay curls his hands around my upper arms, forcing me to face him. “This isn’t like you.”

“Every fibre of my being is telling me we have to finish this, Chakotay.”

As I say it, I realise how true it is.

He searches my eyes for a moment, then sighs. “In that case, we’re going to need a strategy.”

“I agree.” I risk a glance at him; his eyes are shadowed. “Amanisia said Tanatos had three followers. Clearly we took one down during our last encounter, but that still leaves two more, not to mention Tanatos himself. Any suggestions, Commander?”

He shrugs. “Reconnaissance would be a good place to start. If we can get eyes on them, maybe we can figure out how to defeat them.”

“All right.” I slow to a walk. “You and Paris head west. I’ll go east with Ayala. We’ll see what we can see, and meet back at the clearing in an hour.”

“I don’t think we should split up.”

“Then what do you suggest?” I snap, itching to get moving again. “Amanisia told us we have to take down Tanatos before dawn. We’re running out of time.”

“I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just don’t want to lose sight of you. I mean,” he tries to lighten his voice, “I am supposed to be your Guard of Night, aren’t I?”

“Chakotay, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will,” he mutters, but he still hasn’t taken his hands off my arms.

“Is there something else, Commander?” I’m barely hiding my impatience now.

“Yes. Actually, there is.” He’s watching me intently. “What happened back there, with Paris – are you okay?”

I read his eyes, and what I see there is heartfelt concern. For me.

“I’m fine.” I smile at him, resting my hand on his chest. “Really, I am.”

“Okay,” he says, and steps back to let me go.

* * *

 

_Ayala_

I’m used to tracking through unfamiliar territory, but the path through the trees is steep and the captain’s pace is making it hard for me to keep up. There’s just enough moonlight filtering through to glimpse her pale figure flitting between the trunks. She’s a woman on a mission.

My head’s still full of what happened back there at the spring. I’m not sure if I’m more shocked by Paris’ miraculous recovery or the method she used to heal him. Damn, if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve seen in years. I’ve always thought the captain was a beautiful woman, despite that buttoned-up uniform. But I’ve never presumed to think of her in _that_ way.

Boy, has that changed now. All I could think as I watched her pressing up against Paris in that shallow stream, kissing him like she wanted to suck out his soul, was _damn, I wish that was me_. And I didn’t dare look at the boss in case he read my mind and decided to take it out on my face.

Thankfully, I’m pretty good at keeping my own counsel.

Celyne – no, _the captain_ , I have to remember to think of her that way – turns to motion to me to fall in behind her. She’s stopped, crouching by a fallen tree trunk, peering around a cluster of rocks. I hunker down beside her.

“I think I’ve found Tanatos.”

Shuffling forward, I crane my neck around the rock and spy a flattened plain of dead grass and dying, withered plants. The feathered, vulture-headed creature I fought earlier is crouched on a rock, its yellow eyes gleaming. On the other side of the plain, another furred being prowls on all fours, this one with a fox’s head. And in the centre of the clearing stands a creature out of every childhood nightmare I ever had.

It stands over two metres tall, its body silvery with curlicued designs that could be tattoos or the meandering path of some demented snail. Its hands and feet are red-clawed and its head is a skull, shining white as though picked clean, the eye sockets dead and empty. Enormous purplish wings extend from its back, and in one clawed hand it holds a weapon as tall as itself, curved and scaled like a snake and topped with a vicious curved blade.

The skull-head turns toward me and the mouth gapes into a smile. I stumble back, almost knocking over the captain in my haste.

“What is it?” she hisses.

“I think he saw me.”

She pokes her head out and immediately jerks back. “Are you ready to fight, Lieutenant?”

I nod, and we scramble backward, she taking cover in the lee of a rock and me positioning myself behind the fallen trunk. As the stench of something sweet and foul wafts toward us, the captain nocks an arrow and I draw my knives.

“I can smell you, Celyne,” whispers a voice that stiffens my spine. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The captain’s mouth firms.

“Come and give yourself to me,” hisses Tanatos. “You and I are meant to be together.”

Before I can stop her, the captain steps out from her hiding place, arrow aimed straight and true. “You will _never_ have me, Tanatos.”

The demon laughs. “Then you will die,” he says, and springs at her.

The first arrow strikes him in the shoulder. He falters, but before she can let fly another shaft he leaps the distance separating them and grabs her by the throat, lifting her off the ground, feet flailing and hands scrabbling at the claws around her neck.

I bolt out from behind the trunk and spring onto his back, driving the point of each dagger deep into his muscled shoulders. Tanatos bellows, his grip failing. Celyne falls awkwardly but scrambles to her feet as I struggle to keep my grip, the demon twisting and bucking to throw me off. I’m slipping, the hilts of my knives growing slick with blood. One more heave and Tanatos sends me flying through the air. I land heavily, the wind knocked out of me.

“Astrus!” she cries.

I hear the whir of another arrow and Tanatos howls, and then Celyne is bending to grip me by the arm, half-dragging me until I regain my feet.

We run.

Behind us, Tanatos and his creatures are gaining ground. I hear the crash of splintering tree trunks and smell a foul hot wind. The moss beneath our feet is dying, the forest leaves withering. The decay seems to be advancing even ahead of us.

Celyne puts on a burst of speed and zigzags into a thick copse of trees still white and straight, leaves glossy with health. I plunge after her, but she’s disappeared.

“Celyne,” I hiss, and a small hand shoots out and drags me, stumbling, behind a veil of moss.

“Shh,” she warns.

The surrounding trees are so thickly packed, so hung with curtains of moss, that we’re completely concealed from the outside world. It’s tight quarters in here and she’s pressed up against me, so close her hair tickles my chin. Before I can think about it, I’ve wrapped my arms around her, pulling her flush against my body.

Her soft gasp and the way she moves in my arms makes my body react. I pull back, but she shrugs the quiver off her shoulder and drops it to the ground, and then she pushes even closer and winds her arm around my neck.

“Kiss me,” she demands, and drags my mouth down to hers.

As her lips open mine I lose my breath and my mind. My hands roam her body, one cupping her breast, one tugging her thigh around my hip. She presses back with a breathy moan and I slip my hand inside her one-shouldered tunic, pushing the soft fabric aside in favour of her softer skin. She breaks our kiss, throwing her head back to give me access to her throat. I take it, my tongue and teeth scoring a path down over her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast.

When I suck her nipple into my mouth she shudders and circles her hips against mine. I’m straining against my breeches. My hand slides under her raised thigh to dip between her legs, and oh God, she’s naked under there. Naked and hot and deliciously wet. My fingers slide between her folds. She jerks against me, fingers digging into my shoulders, a low groan echoing in her throat as I stroke her. I can feel she’s getting close. I want to be inside her.

I pull my fingers away to fumble with the ties on my breeches. She whimpers, “Astrus,” and raises her head.

“Captain,” whispers a voice that isn’t mine. “Captain. Ayala. Are you in there?”

It’s Chakotay.

The captain opens her eyes, locking onto mine, and hers widen in shock.

And then she’s pushing me violently away, sending me stumbling back, and all I can do is stare at her as I try to remember where, and who, I am.


	3. Battle

_Chakotay_

I brush aside the heavy drape of moss, pushing into the tiny space between the trees, and stop so abruptly that Paris runs straight into my back.

Ayala is leaning back against a tree, breeches half-unlaced, hands fisted at his sides, chest heaving. He’s staring disbelievingly at Kathryn, and it barely takes a glance at her to realise why.

Her hair is tangled, eyes heavy and lips swollen, her breath coming just as hard and fast as Ayala’s. Her bow and quiver lie abandoned on the ground beside her. Her tunic is askew, one rose-peaked breast exposed, the short skirt rucked up across her thighs. It would take a blind man not to comprehend exactly what they’ve just been doing.

I’ve always dreamed of seeing her like this. But in my dreams, I was the one who made her look this way.

“Kathryn.”

My voice is controlled, but she jumps and turns quickly away from me, blushing furiously as she straightens her clothing.

“Are they in here?” Paris pushes past me and stops short, clearly sensing the atmosphere.

Ayala coughs, but I can’t deal with him right now. Wisely, he grabs Paris’ elbow and they back out of the copse.

Kathryn collects her weapons and forces herself straight, not meeting my eye. “Commander,” she says briskly. “Report.”

I can’t help a short huff of breath. “We didn’t encounter any sign of Tanatos or his creatures, Captain.”

“They were chasing us,” she says, as though only just remembering it. “I guess we evaded them.”

“By taking cover in here.”

Her shoulders hunch defensively. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I’ll just bet,” I mutter, and she whirls to face me.

“If you have something to say, Commander, I suggest you spit it out.”

My mouth opens, but the sensible part of my brain kicks in – thank God – and I shake my head.

“Good,” she snaps, and pushes past me.

“I estimate we have about two hours until sunrise,” Paris is saying as I quietly rejoin the group. “Any idea where we can find this Tanatos and kick his ass?”

“He doesn’t seem to have come this way.” Kathryn waves a hand at the lush growth ahead of us, then turns to indicate the dead moss on the forest floor, the mould encroaching on the withering tree trunks. “I suggest we head in that direction.”

“Back toward the spring?” Paris frowns.

“Think about it,” she urges. “If Tanatos is the Bringer of Decay, and the Naiades’ spring is the life-force of this place, wouldn’t he go to the source?”

“I never really paid attention in mythology class,” Paris admits.

“I did.” I step forward. “The captain’s right. Let’s go.”

“He’s moody,” I hear Paris murmur to Ayala as I turn to stride off.

“Shut up, Paris,” Ayala mutters.

We move in single file for a while, Kathryn bringing up the rear, but it doesn’t take long for her to decide she’s given me enough space. Skirting the other two, she catches up to me and holds me back, letting the others move ahead.

“Chakotay,” she says quietly.

“Yes, Captain?”

Her mouth tightens at my use of her rank. “Do we need to talk about this?”

“No, Captain.”

“ _Chakotay_.” She plants herself in my path. I stop short, staring past her, and she sighs and rubs her forehead. “I don’t know – I don’t understand what happened back there. I just – all I can think is that there’s something about this … persona … that prompts me to do things I would never normally do.”

I lower my gaze. Her forehead is crinkled, her eyes clouded, but all I can see is Ayala’s hands on her body. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Captain.”

“Then why are you acting like a jealous lover?” she snaps, then closes her eyes, regaining control. “I’m sorry, Commander. That was out of line.”

“Why him?” I demand. “Why Paris?” _Why not me_? I barely stop myself from pleading.

She looks up at me, trapped and desperate. “I don’t know, Chakotay. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Well, neither do I,” but the heat leaches out of my anger at her clear distress.

We’re silent for a few moments, neither of us looking at the other, until Kathryn shakes it off. “We’d better keep going. The others must be way ahead of us by now.”

I nod. “Let’s get this done.”

* * *

 

_Paris_

Ayala being mute is hardly unusual, but this silence is heavy. Whatever Chakotay and I almost walked in on back there has got him totally preoccupied.

I’m not stupid. I have a pretty good idea what just happened between him and the captain. I’m also not dumb enough to bring it up, because Chakotay’s not the only big, dark, brooding Maquis who’s liable to let his fists do the talking. So I shut the hell up and keep my head down, and before long I start noticing how drastically this place seems to be changing.

The closer we get to the clearing where we first met Amanisia and her Naiades, the more decayed the foliage is becoming. The once-straight, white-barked trees are withered and crawling with maggots, the broad blue leaves curled and slimy-black with mould. The moss beneath our feet is dried-up and crunchy. Even the fireflies are long gone.

As we creep toward the spring I hear not the trickle of clear water but the sluggish sound of a mud-choked stream. And then a shriek rends the air and my hair stands on end.

As one, Ayala and I draw our weapons and sprint toward the clearing. What we see when we enter it makes my throat clutch in horror.

The vulture-headed creature and a half-humanoid thing with a fox’s head are stalking Amanisia and her Naiades, herding them away from the stream in the centre of the clearing. Amanisia appears to be standing up to them, keeping her companions from their vicious-looking claws.

Tanatos – it must be Tanatos, I’ve never seen such a demonic-looking being in my life – has one of the Naiades in his grip, one scaly arm clamped around her waist, his other hand curled around her throat. As I watch, he wrenches her head to one side and she drops to the ground, eyes lifeless and vacant.

With a bellow, Astrus surges past me, daggers whistling through the air. One takes root in Tanatos’ thick thigh, the other flying past him to embed itself harmlessly in a tree. Astrus leaps on the fox-thing’s back, his powerful arms squeezing around its furry neck. I race forward, swinging my sword cleanly over my head and burying it into the vulture’s midsection. Its hollow shriek of agony as it crumples is the most satisfying sound I’ve ever heard.

“Zefir!”

At Astrus’ warning shout, I duck and roll, the swish of air against my face telling me Tanatos’ meaty hand has barely missed me. I come up with my sword raised, but Tanatos is already rushing me. He takes me down and I’m on the ground, claws pressing into my chest and a demon’s skull grinning at me in triumph.

“Die,” he breathes. And just as I’m preparing myself to do so, Tanatos howls as an arrow embeds itself in his back.

Tanatos twists himself off me and I stagger to my feet, scrabbling for my sword. I can hear the thick sound of a dagger sinking into meat as Astrus dispatches the fox-head, but I’m preoccupied with the scene unfolding before me. Onix has his spear raised and he and Tanatos are circling each other, the demon all but ignoring the shafts piercing his shimmering hide as Celyne nocks arrow after arrow from the edge of the clearing, her aim straight and true, and making very little difference.

“Guard of Night,” Tanatos taunts. “I will take your huntress for my own.”

Onix bares his teeth. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

“As you wish,” and Tanatos unfurls his great violet wings and soars into the air, diving at Onix and swinging his silver-bladed staff.

Before Onix can so much as twist away, Tanatos’ blade buries itself in his chest.

Celyne’s heart-rending scream turns my blood to ice.

* * *

 

_Janeway_

He groans, his face contorting in pain as Tanatos leans on the wicked blade, shoving it deeper into Onix’s chest. The demon leans in close, his death’s-head grinning.

“Soon you will die,” he hisses, “and she will be mine.”

My bow and quiver spill to the ground as I run towards them, dropping to my knees to take Onix’s hand in mine. His eyes are dark with pain as he looks up at me.

“Don’t leave me.” My voice shakes. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

Tanatos laughs as he stands over us. “It’s a matter of time, Huntress. Come, be mine, and I will share with you the pleasures of the underworld.”

“Nothing in this world will make me choose to go with you willingly, Tanatos,” I spit at him, curling my fingers around Onix’s.

“Nothing?” His foul breath stains my skin. “I can save your Guard of Night, but you must choose to come with me. You must decide between his life and the completion of your quest. Choose carefully, Huntress. What is done cannot be undone.”

Amanisia comes to kneel beside me, her hand on my shoulder. “Only you can save the Guard of Night,” she tells me quietly. “But Tanatos is right. You cannot save him without sacrificing the hunt. The spring would not be reborn and the new cycle would not begin. This world would wither and die.”

Astrus and Zefir drift closer, weapons raised, and with one broad sweep of his wings, Tanatos sends them staggering. “Your Guards of Air and Stars must keep away,” he growls. “This is between you and me, Celyne. _Choose_.”

Choose between giving Tanatos everything he wants, and letting Onix die. The man who means everything to me, more than I can ever allow myself to admit. The choice I’ve always prayed I would never have to make.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I would rather die myself.”

“Then so you will.”

Tanatos leaps skyward, wings beating the air, moonlight glinting from his raised staff as he rushes down toward me.

I close my eyes and wait for the death blow that never comes.

There’s a whirlwind of screams and fetid air, and when I open my eyes, Tanatos lies dead with Onix’s spear through his chest, Amanisia’s fingers clenched around the handle. She lies pinned to the ground beside me with Tanatos’ staff buried between her ribs. Blood soaks into the dull earth beneath her.

I crawl over to her, my shaking hand touching her face. She opens her eyes, no longer silvery but steel-grey. “Amanisia, what happened?”

“The cycle must be renewed,” she whispers. “This is the only way.”

“You sacrificed yourself for me.”

“Because you must live.” It costs her a great effort but she releases the spear and curls her fingers weakly around my own. “And so must your Guard of Night.”

“How?”

“You must finish your task. Only by joining with your chosen companion can the spring be reborn.”

“My chosen companion?” I stare at her. “Joining?”

She smiles. “Your choice is already made, Celyne. All you have to do is follow it through.”

“I don’t – I can’t –”

“Take him to the altar stone. Your power will be strongest there.” Her eyes drift closed.

“Amanisia,” I tighten my hand on hers. “Stay with us.”

But the Naiades have glided closer, kneeling in a half-circle behind Amanisia, and before they even begin to weep, I know Amanisia is dead.

All around us, leaves are dropping from the trees, and I hear the crack as a trunk splits from decay. This planet is dying.

Zefir and Astrus kneel either side of me, one hand on each of my shoulders. “Celyne,” whispers Zefir. “You know what you have to do. Don’t let her death be in vain.”

I search his familiar blue eyes, and nod. “Get him up to the altar stone.”

* * *

 

_Chakotay_

Warm, soft lips caress mine, the only thread of sensation connecting me to a world that isn’t filled with darkness and pain.

I remember this feeling. The tickle of hair against my cheek, a slender hand cupping my face. The brush of a tongue against parted lips. Smooth skin pressed against mine, gentle touches, the feel of a woman in my arms.

But never this woman – at least, not outside of my dreams.

She whispers my name, calling to me, but I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m afraid if I do she’ll disappear.

“Wake up,” she murmurs, her lips against mine. “Wake up and be with me.”

Her hands brush over my chest and my pain recedes. Her body presses against me until my arms come around her and she sighs, her breath caught in mingled relief and need.

I’m kissing her back, tasting the petal-softness of her lips, nipping her gently, dipping my tongue into her mouth. She shifts closer. My hands come up to weave into her hair, lifting her face from mine so I can lick and lightly bite at her neck, and in an instant we move from slow burn to conflagration.

I push my torso upright and her legs wind around my hips, her arms around my body. We’re kissing fiercely now with lips and teeth and tongues. Her fingers twist into my hair. I cover her back with spread hands, trying to pull her as close as I possibly can. She’s sighing, almost moaning, writhing against me and I need to feel her bare skin on mine. I reach for the clasp that holds up her tunic and twist it, and she’s bared to me from the waist up.

My hands cup her breasts and she arches, her head dropping back to give my mouth uninterrupted access to her. I don’t waste any time. I kiss downward over her throat, sucking at her skin, leaving pink marks of possession, and latch my lips over one hard nipple.

The heat kicks up inside me and I lower her to the stone altar. She makes no protest, simply pushes her hands between us and yanks at the ties on my breeches. Her hands wrap around me and I have to gasp for breath, squeezing my eyes shut. Her legs are parted, ankles linked loosely at the small of my back. I push up her skirt, one hand smoothing upward along her thigh, and find her liquid and ready for me.

“Onix,” she groans. “I need you now.”

I want to slow down, take my time, touch her, taste her properly. But the blood is thundering in my veins and I can’t wait.  I surge inside her and she’s gasping, her hands feverish as she drags me down, in, deeper, harder. My lips fasten over hers again – I could kiss her forever – as her body clenches around me, a cry escaping her as she comes apart. It’s too much. I can’t hold back.

She’s still shaking as her arms and legs loosen around me and her eyes open onto mine.

“Celyne,” I whisper, burying my face in the crook of her neck. She smells salty and sweet; I lap at her, drinking in her scent and the sound of her soft, hitching sighs as I build her up again. This time, I’m determined to make it last.

* * *

  
   
 _Ayala_

As soon as Zefir and I have lifted Onix’s bleeding form onto the altar, Celyne orders us to see to the Naiades, still gathered in mourning around Amanisia’s body. One stands to meet us as we approach.

“I am Nikaiea,” she informs us. “I lead the Naiades now. There are things we must do.”

She bends to pick up Onix’s discarded spear and hands it to me.

“The instrument of Tanatos’ demise must be buried with him. There is a cavern of rock behind the altar stone. You must wall the demon’s body inside, so that he cannot escape until the coming cycle has ended.”

I nod to Zefir and we drag the purple-winged demon past the altar stone, averting our eyes as we pass. Behind the waterfall, it’s cool, all external sound deadened by the cascading water. We shove Tanatos and the spear into the hollowed-out rock and pile loose boulders in front of his body.

“What about his creatures?” Zefir asks when we return.

“They will be absorbed into the soil. The earth wastes nothing. Look,” and Nikaiea indicates the acolytes’ bodies, already decomposing. As I watch, I realise that the blood Onix shed is also soaking into the dry, cracked ground, and the moss… The moss is becoming verdant and fresh again.

“The cycle is beginning its renewal,” Nikaiea murmurs. “The moon goddess will soon complete her task.”

One of the Naiades plucks at my elbow, leading me over to Amanisia’s still, pale form. “She must be returned to the river. Help us.”

I pick up the dead Naiad queen and follow the women along the stream, through the woods until we reach the mouth of the river. At Nikaiea’s nod, I lower Amanisia into the water and let it carry her away. The Naiades stand watch until she drifts out of sight, and we begin the hike back to the clearing.

“Look at this,” Zefir nudges me, fingering the glossy leaves on a tree as we pass. It’s not the only part of the forest that seems to be coming back to life. The moss and grass beneath our feet is soft and springy, and the trunks around us are straight and white again.

Then we enter the clearing, and my mouth drops open.

There’s no trace of the creatures we slaughtered. The glade is lush with health, and either side of the stream are budding flowers in a myriad of colours. I glance at Nikaiea, who smiles. I realise I can see her more clearly than even a few moments before, and look up. The pink fingers of dawn are streaking the lightening sky.

“All is as it should be.” Nikaiea points toward the altar. Beside me, Zefir whistles under his breath.

They’re naked, entwined in each other’s arms, moving together so slowly they seem to be existing entirely in the universe of their own moment. I feel like I should be ashamed, should avert my eyes, but I can’t force myself to look away. As I watch, the woman’s head tips back, her long hair falling over the stone, her lips parted on a moan that curls my toes. And then she cries, “Chakotay,” and everything flies apart and fits itself together again.


	4. Awakening

_Janeway_

“Chakotay,” I almost shriek as wildfire races through my body, arching my back and curling my fingers. He groans my name in response, dropping his forehead to my shoulder as he grinds into me a final time, both of us shaking and gasping and clutching at sweat-beaded skin.

It’s only as my thundering heartbeat begins to slow that I realise.

He called me _Kathryn_.

I pull back, our bodies separating slickly and sending another shiver through me as we stare at each other.

“Kathryn,” he says again. “What – are you – did we ...?”

I’m not Celyne of the Moon, the huntress sent to bring life back to this planet. I’m Kathryn. I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway, and I just had sex with my first officer.

Oh _God_.

Wrenching myself away from him is pain of both the physical and metaphysical kind. I stagger to my feet and wrap an arm around my breasts and the other around my hips. Chakotay remains kneeling, clearly stunned, until I turn away from him.

The tunic I was wearing has disappeared. God, I need to cover myself. Where is my uniform? Casting wildly around for it, I can’t help gaping at the scene around us.

Where before there was a sluggish stream and dead and dying foliage, there’s now a lushly flowered carpet of moss along the banks of a crystalline brook. Trees that were blackened and mouldering are once again straight and thick with glossy blue leaves. The Naiades have gone, and we’re alone in the clearing.

“Captain.”

Whirling, I realise Chakotay has found our uniforms; he’s half-dressed in the black pants and is holding my trousers and undershirt out to me, his face averted. I snatch the garments from his hand and yank them on, feeling instantly better. Determinedly ignoring the stretch and pull of my thigh muscles, the slickness between my legs, it takes next to no time to fasten my jacket, pull on my boots, straighten my pips. By the time I’ve pulled my hair into a hasty knot, Ayala and Paris have emerged fully-dressed from the trees at the edge of the clearing.

Ayala. Paris. Shame and horror prickle the backs of my eyes as the memory of what I did with each of them slaps me in the face.

And how much did they see? I study them covertly. Ayala is inscrutable as ever, but he’s not meeting my eye. Paris looks like he’d rather be just about anywhere else.

As for Chakotay… Forcing myself to look at him, I find him completely unreadable.

I have to get control of this. Straightening, I steady my voice. “Commander, Lieutenants. If you’re all recovered from our … _adventure_ … I think it’s time to return to the ship.”

“Captain,” Chakotay interrupts before I can activate my commbadge. He’s holding a tricorder, pointed in the direction of the stream below the altar stone. “I’m getting strong dilithium readings here. Should we –”

“Yes, by all means, Commander,” I cut in hastily. “Why don’t you three, uh, investigate the readings. I’ll check in with Tuvok.”

As I move away, a glimmer of light catches my eye from the surface of the altar stone. Crouching, I pick up the reflective object. It’s the opal on a silver chain that I was wearing around my neck.

I don’t know why, if everything else from this wild, shadowy, mystical night has disappeared, the necklace is still here. But before I can second-guess myself, I scoop it into my pocket and turn my back on the others, slapping my commbadge. “Janeway to _Voyager_.”

* * *

 

_Paris_

“Tuvok here,” echoes through the captain’s commbadge.

“Lieutenant,” she replies, then stops. Glancing at her, I realise she’s staring into the distance and biting her lip.

“Captain, are you well?”

She shakes herself. “Yes. Yes, we’re fine, Tuvok. I – I was just checking in.”

There’s a Vulcan pause. “Acknowledged, Captain. Have you succeeded in locating the dilithium source?”

“I’m not – I – possibly.” Janeway half-turns toward us and I take pity on her and hurry over, showing her my tricorder. She gives me a swift, grateful glance. “Yes, Tuvok, it seems the bedrock of a stream we’ve found is rich in dilithium. It’s possible we may be able to beam it out, but you’ll need to send down some pattern enhancers.”

“Do you need additional assistance?” Tuvok inquires.

“No, I don’t want anyone else coming down to this planet,” she snaps, then closes her eyes. “I’m sorry, Tuvok. I haven’t … I’m a little tired.”

She’s jumpy as a cat, and if I know Tuvok, he’s already alerted the Doctor to start monitoring all our biosigns. I figure we have about twenty seconds until –

“Captain?” The Doctor’s nasal voice breaks into the commline.

Janeway stiffens. “What are you doing on this channel, Doctor?”

He smoothly evades the question. “Captain, I’m reading elevated serotonin and adrenaline levels in all four members of the away team, as well as higher than usual levels of dopamine and oxytocin in the commander and yourself. Might I enquire as to your current physical state?”

The captain blushes furiously. “As I said, Doctor, we are all just fine. Now _get off this channel_.”

“I’ll be expecting you all to check in with Sickbay immediately on your return,” is his parting shot.

Janeway grits her teeth. “Lieutenant Tuvok, remind me to reacquaint you with communication protocols at a later date. For now, send down those transporter pattern enhancers. The sooner we get this dilithium and get the hell off this planet, the better. Janeway out.”

She slaps her commbadge so emphatically she probably hurts herself, then turns to glare at me. “Mr Paris, as soon as those enhancers are in place I want that dilithium back on the ship. Inform the commander that I’ll be returning shortly.”

Before I can stop her, she stalks off into the trees without looking back.

I amble over to join the others as the shimmer of a transporter beam deposits several enhancer rods on the mossy ground.

“So,” I begin tentatively as the three of us set them up, “I guess we’ll have to file some kind of report on, uh, last night.”

Ayala scowls at me from across the stream.

“Your point, Paris?” Chakotay clips without looking up.

“Well, uh, I was just wondering how much information that report should include, sir.”

He straightens up and gives me a cold stare. “What do you think the captain would expect your report to include, Lieutenant?”

“Um, the facts, sir.”

“Your report,” Chakotay says flatly, “will include exactly the facts that Starfleet – or anyone on the ship – needs to know. No less, and absolutely no more.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Paris? If I ever hear the slightest whisper that you’ve divulged information outside of that _need to know_ – whether it’s in your report, your personal log or your conversations with any living being excluding the four of us – I will personally rain down all manner of hell on you for the remainder of your natural life. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good,” he says shortly as the last beacon clicks into place. “The two of you, get back to the ship. I’m going to retrieve the captain.”

* * *

 

_Chakotay_

It doesn’t take long to track her down. I find her sitting on a fallen log, hunched over her knees with her face hidden in her hands. I consider speaking to warn her I’m here and decide against it, taking a seat beside her.

She jerks to her feet immediately. “What are you doing here, Commander? I ordered you back to _Voyager_.”

“I sent the others on ahead. I thought you might want to talk.”

Kathryn wraps her arms around herself defensively.

 _Or not_. “There will be no record of anything … untoward … in the away team’s reports,” I tell her, keeping my voice calm. “But I think we should discuss this.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Commander. I … did what I had to do to save your life, and that’s all there is to it.”

Anger begins to uncurl like tendrils in my gut, and I rise to my feet. “You can’t ignore this, Kathryn. “

“Yes, I can, Commander,” she snaps. “As far as I’m concerned, we were all under the influence of some alien ritual and can’t be held responsible for our actions.”

“Maybe at first,” I concede. “But not the second time. You and I both know that was real.”

She turns her back to me, shaking her head.

“Don’t deny it, Kathryn.”

“There’s nothing to deny!” she hisses, facing me. “And I never want to speak of this again. That’s an order, Commander.”

I step forward, trying to gather the words to get through to her, but the mulish set of her jaw and the cold warning in her eyes tells me it’s pointless. I let my hands drop back to my sides.

“Aye, Captain.”

As she taps her commbadge and calls for a beam-out, we don’t look at each other once.

* * *

 

_Ayala_

“I can’t find any medical reason for the elevated chemical levels in Mr Ayala’s bloodstream, Lieutenant.” The Doctor looks put out. “And they’re not posing any danger to him. My best guess is that Mr Ayala has recently engaged in heightened physical activity of some kind.”

“And Mr Paris?” Tuvok turns to indicate the helmsman sitting on the biobed opposite mine.

“The same. However, he also shows evidence of a recent endorphin high and increased neurotransmitter activity, consistent with having recently sustained an injury. There is, however, no other physical evidence of such an occurrence.”

“Intriguing.” Tuvok fixes Paris with a stare. “Would you care to offer an explanation, Lieutenant?”

Paris squirms and flicks a glance at me; I hope my returning stare is sufficiently quelling. “Um, it’s a complicated story, sir.”

Tuvok raises an eyebrow and waits.

“Well, ah, Ayala and I set up camp while the captain and the commander went off to investigate the dilithium readings. Everything was pretty normal until we lost contact with them. When we found them they were talking to these, um, women…” he trails off, sending me a desperate glance.

“Women?” Tuvok asks. “Sensors didn’t detect any alien lifesigns on the planet.”

“I don’t know if you’d call them aliens, exactly. More like … mythical beings.”

“Explain,” Tuvok demands, eyebrow climbing higher.

It’s kind of fun to watch Paris sweating like this, but I cut in to save him. “Sir, the women introduced themselves as Naiades and claimed the purpose of their existence was to protect a natural spring from attack by a creature they called Tanatos. Their leader explained that the four of us had to partake in some sort of quest to stop the destruction of their natural habitat.”

“Describe this quest.”

Paris butts in again. “We took on alternate personas. The captain was this, uh, moon goddess and the three of us were her guards. We had to hunt down Tanatos and kill him and his followers so the forest would come back to life.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tuvok speechless before.

“Interesting,” pipes the Doctor. “This story bears some resemblance to an ancient Earth mythology.”

“And is highly illogical,” Tuvok objects. “I cannot believe the captain would agree to involve herself or her crewmembers in such a flight of fancy.”

“It’s not like she really had much of a choice,” Paris mutters.

Tuvok spins back to him. “Are you suggesting that she, and you, were coerced into a dangerous situation?”

“Well, kind of…” Paris trails off as the captain and Chakotay enter Sickbay, tension clear in their rigid shoulders.

“Doctor,” Janeway snaps. “If you’ve quite finished examining my officers, release them to their quarters. Commander Chakotay is here for the mandatory physical check. Mr Tuvok, I expected to find you on the bridge, but since you’re apparently off duty I’ll be taking the bridge myself.”

She turns to stalk out but the Doctor, who can move like lightning when he wants to, inserts himself between her and the exit. “Not so fast, Captain. You are also required to undergo the mandatory medical clearance.” He’s already scanning her, ignoring the glare she’s directing at him.

“Later, Doctor.”

She moves to dodge him but Tuvok is even faster.

“Captain, given the information I have just gleaned from Lieutenants Paris and Ayala, I believe it is imperative that you undergo a complete medical examination.”

“I’m fine,” she snarls.

“Perhaps,” Tuvok allows. “I would prefer that the Doctor confirm it, however.”

She draws herself to her full height and opens her mouth, presumably to blast Tuvok back to crewman, but a quiet “Captain,” from Chakotay stops her.

“Fine,” she says tightly. “Mr Paris, Mr Ayala, you’re dismissed. Tuvok, take the bridge. I’ll check in with you later.”

“Aye, Captain,” the three of us answer.

Glancing back from the door, I notice that Janeway has moved to stand beside the biobed furthest from Chakotay, arms folded, scowling as the Doctor scans her. Chakotay’s wearing his most impenetrable mask, awaiting his turn.

The Doctor’s tricorder beeps, but before he can say a word, Janeway hisses, “Doctor, need I remind you about patient confidentiality protocols?”

I’ve never been so glad to get out of Sickbay in my life.

* * *

 

_Janeway_

I’ve never been so relieved to enter the silent sanctuary of my quarters.

Shedding the layers of my uniform on the way to the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the tub and try to work the tangles out of my hair with my fingers. I’d kill for a long hot bath right now. But I have to compose a report that’s going to take all my powers of diplomacy to write, and I can feel the need for sleep dragging at my mind.

First, though, I need to feel clean.

“Computer, water shower, thirty-eight degrees.”

I step under the hot spray, letting the water slick my hair to the back of my head, and reach for the shampoo. Working it into a lather, I close my eyes.

 _Strong arms holding me close, soft lips on mine. The rasp of cool stone against my back as we move together_.

My eyes spring open and I curse, blinking suds out of them as I scrabble for a towel, pressing it to my face.

 _Warm hands cupping my breasts, curving around my hips. Pleasure welling tight in my lower belly. The surge and press of him inside me_.

Shaking it off, I scour my skin with the sponge, wincing at pulled muscles and bruises, shivering at the recollection of Chakotay’s hands gliding over the same places I’m scrubbing over now. I can’t be thinking of this – I can’t let it sink into my memory the way he already inhabits my dreams.

In frustration I order the water to ten degrees, gasping at the icy shock of it. It works, somewhat. I rinse off and rub myself vigorously with a towel, refusing to let my mind wander any further.

Squeezing the excess water from my hair, I slip on my robe and wander back out to the living area, picking up the discarded pieces of my uniform. As I shake out the pants something falls out of the pocket. It’s the necklace. I hold it in my palm, images of slick naked skin and soft sighs and moans playing through my mind.

The door chimes. I close my fingers over the opal in my hand.

“Enter.”

Chakotay steps inside, wearing a soft blue button-down shirt and jeans, his hair damp. A wave of longing assails me, so strong I almost stagger under the force of it.

“What are you doing here, Commander?”

I don’t miss the way his eyes darken when he looks at me, barely covered in my short silk robe. I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to disguise the way my nipples have hardened against the cloth.

“I came here to talk about what happened on that planet.” He moves toward me and I stop myself – just barely – from backing away.

“I told you this subject was closed.”

“I know what you said.” He stands there, staring down at me, eyes so black they’re unreadable. “But I can’t stop thinking about it – about you – and I’m willing to bet that you can’t, either. You can’t just walk away from something so … powerful … and never give it another thought.”

I’m trying to think of something to say, the words that will convince him it meant nothing to me, but before I can come up with anything he lifts his hand to cup the side of my face, his thumb grazing lightly over my lower lip. My whole body quivers, and I can’t stifle a gasp.

“You feel it too,” he says, as though he wasn’t as sure as he claimed. “Kathryn…”

He’s leaning in, his warm breath fanning across my face, and I can feel my eyes slipping closed, my body yearning toward him, my lips parted in anticipation. My arms unfold, my hand hovering over his chest. I can almost feel his heart pounding in time with my own.

“Kathryn,” he whispers again, so close, “if I kiss you now, everything is going to change. But it has to be your choice.”

And, as much as my body, my entire being is aching for him, the fear is too strong.

I step back.

“We can’t do this, Chakotay.”

Emotions flicker across the planes of his face, almost too quickly to identify them, before he straightens up and lets his hand fall away from my cheek. He takes in a deep breath, meets my eyes, and gives me a nod.

As he walks toward the door, I uncurl my fingers and gaze at the opal necklace in my palm. Unbidden, Amanisia’s words come back to me: _Only the other half of your soul will complete the cycle, and your bonding will be eternal_.

But I’m the captain. I didn’t choose this – I’m not allowed to have this. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be –

 _Your choice is already made. All you have to do is follow it through_.

The door opens. In a moment he’ll be out of my reach.

“Chakotay … wait.”


End file.
